


Borrowed Time

by mammothluv



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ex-pilot and a former president on New Caprica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://bluelittlegirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**bluelittlegirl**](http://bluelittlegirl.livejournal.com/) who won me in the Support Stacie author auction. Thanks for bidding on me, Blue! Also, many thanks to [](http://meryl-edan.livejournal.com/profile)[**meryl_edan**](http://meryl-edan.livejournal.com/) for being a fantabulous beta! Battlestar Galactica belongs to SyFy and the show creators. I'm not making any profit and no copyright infringement is intended.

_I. Laura_

Teaching is a universe away from being president of The Colonies. The fleet has only been on New Caprica for five months and already Laura feels like working after school for two or three hours qualifies as a late night. The days without sleep when she was president seem a distant memory now.

Late night or not, she never relishes arriving home to an empty tent, so when she opens the flap and finds that Kara Thrace has let herself in, she's not as offended as she acts; she's actually a little relieved. But she'll pretend to be surprised and mildly irritated and Kara will say something obnoxious. This is part of the game they play. It passes the time.

"Let myself in. Hope you don't mind," Kara says with a cocky grin. She's sprawled across Laura's bed, shuffling a deck of Triad cards, and looking like she owns this tent when, in reality, her tent and her husband are several rows away.

"Not at all. So glad you could make yourself comfortable, Captain," Laura grumbles as she shoves the younger woman's feet out of the way so she too can sit down. "I see you helped yourself to some of my food while you were at it."

"If you can call it that." Kara grimaces as she takes a bite of the cracker she's holding. The colonists are still working out how to utilize the plants and grains they've found on the planet and the crackers are one of the less than stellar results.

"And I thought we discussed you calling me Kara, Madame Former President." The title comes from Kara's mouth dripping with sarcastic formality. "See? No uniform. Just a civilian these days." She frees one hand to gesture to the black pants and plain vest she is wearing. Laura picks up on the hint of regret in Kara's voice.

"Right. Why don't you just deal, Kara?" Laura asks, putting unnecessary emphasis on the other woman's name and gesturing toward the Triad deck.

Kara deals and Laura takes inventory of her cards before selecting a few and setting them down on the cot. "Discarding three," she says. Kara deals her another three cards, then discards and replaces two of her own.

"Call.”

“You’re calling already?”

“I have a good hand.”

Laura lays her cards on the bed.

Kara lets out a whoop and gathers the cards. "I win," she exclaims triumphantly.

"Don't get so excited, Kara. It's not like you actually win anything."

"You mean nothing besides the personal satisfaction of beating your ass," Kara says.

Laura chuckles. "Well, there is that. But this is only the first hand. I wouldn’t take your victory lap just yet."

"Shut up and pay up, Roslin." With that Kara leans in, grabs Laura by the waist and pulls Laura toward her. Before Laura can respond, Kara's lips are on hers and her tongue is pushing its way into her mouth.

Kara isn't gentle. She's hungry, needy, and Laura responds in kind. Hands pull eagerly at clothes until they're both completely naked and Laura's reminded just how chilly it is in her tent.

"Frak, this planet is cold," Kara complains. She jumps up and pulls Laura off the cot long enough to pull back the covers. She pushes Laura onto the bed and quickly follows, pulling the covers over them both. She plants a knee on either side of Laura, hovering above her.

She lowers her head and kisses Laura, her tongue pressing into Laura's mouth.

Kara's fingers grasp Laura's hips so tightly that Laura is sure she'll have bruises tomorrow. She doesn't mind. When Kara's in her bed, she has a way of making Laura feel like Laura's the only thing she's ever wanted.

Kara's mouth is warm against her skin, a sharp contrast to the chill in the air around them. Laura shivers as Kara slowly runs her tongue around one nipple and then the other, then blows lightly on the areas her tongue has just traveled.

Kara rolls to one side so she’s lying next to Laura and then Kara's hand is teasingly traveling along the insides of Laura's thighs, making Laura yearn for more contact. She arches her hips, silently asking. Laura gasps as Kara gives her what she wants and pushes three fingers inside her. She uses her thumb to roughly circle Laura's clit as her fingers pump steadily in and out.

"Faster," Laura whispers and Kara complies readily. Moments later she once again puts her lips to Laura's. Their kiss stifles Laura's moan as her muscles clench and shudder around Kara's fingers.

A half hour later they're once again clothed, the need for warmth overriding the desire to linger together under the covers. They are sprawled on Laura’s bed drinking from a bottle of absinthe. "Liberated from the Tighs’ stash," Kara said by way of explanation when she pulled the bottle from her bag.

They've been drinking quietly for several minutes when Kara speaks again. "Do you miss it?"

"Hmmm? Miss what?"

"You know, being all presidential?" Kara punctuates the question with a goofy grin but Laura senses the underlying seriousness.

"Leave it to you to ruin a pleasant evening with a serious inquiry." She considers ignoring the question entirely but she feels Kara's intent gaze on her and knows she won't stop until she gets her answer. They're a lot alike that way. So she settles on a half truth. "I suppose the answer is more complex than a simple yes or no. My presidential duties were taxing to say the least but I did find politics came more naturally to me than I'd expected."

"Bullshit," Kara replies. "You sound like you're at a press conference. ‘My presidential duties were taxing to say the least.'" She lowers her voice on the last sentence and straightens her posture in what Laura can only assume is an imitation of her.

Laura takes another drink to give herself a chance to gather her thoughts before speaking again. "I had so much more I needed to do. It has been nice to slow down for a time but it also feels like I've lost something."

Kara lets out what sounds like a sigh of relief. "For me too. I always thought I'd die in a Viper. Living here, being married, part of me loves it and part of me feels like I'm not supposed to have this life."

"I thought I'd die leading us to Earth. As much as possible, I was prepared for it. Humanity needs to survive. I don't think... no, I _know _Baltar's not the man to ensure that."

Kara tilts her head. "You think you failed us."

"Hmmm," Laura nods. "Maybe I did."

"We aren't dead yet, Laura."

"I admire your optimism, Kara."

Kara has a point. Honestly, Laura wants nothing more than to let go and live for today and look at this situation, this planet, as an opportunity. It wasn't that long ago that her body was betraying her, mutinous cells waging war inside her. She's lucky to be here at all. She tries not to forget that. She emerged alive but not unscathed. The result was more than she hoped for but the memory of her disease and the events surrounding it still keeps her off-balance in a way she can barely tolerate.

She wonders sometimes if her cancer was the turning point. She got weak; she let things slide. Was that when Baltar first got a leg up on her? This planet may have been the deciding factor but the seeds of his victory must have been planted long before that. She can, and does, drive herself crazy some nights thinking about it, analyzing actions and reactions. She didn't have time for that when she was president. As president, she made a move and carried on. Regrets were dangerous; regrets required time and energy, luxuries she did not have. But now she's a school teacher. She's a school teacher and frakking Gaius Baltar is the president so she has time for regrets.

It's difficult to move on in a place where the reminders of your failures are everywhere. Every time she hears Baltar's grating voice over the loudspeakers issuing a presidential decree, every time the food rations are cut or one of her students get sick and there's no medicine, every time she looks at Isis… no, Hera... and wonders what kind of girl and woman she'll grow to be, Laura questions herself.

Spare time, Laura's learning, is not all it's cracked up to be.

Kara interrupts her thoughts with a question, "Where'd you wander off to, Roslin?"

"Hmmm? Nowhere, just thinking," Laura responds.

Kara hands her the bottle. “Think less. Drink more.”

“A wise philosophy,” Laura responds as she raises the bottle to her lips, takes a drink, then passes it back to Kara.

Kara will head home soon. She's probably already stayed too long. Laura wonders, not for the first time, what Sam makes of Kara's late night absences. He must have heard the rumors, everyone has. There aren't enough people on New Caprica that anyone or anything can remain anonymous for long. To hear Tory tell it--despite her serious nature, Tory is a shameless gossip when it suits her--Kara Thrace has frakked half the population of New Caprica in the few months they've been here. She doubts Tory suspects Laura is one of those people.

Laura should feel guilty or ridiculous for carrying on an affair with a woman half her age. At the very least, under normal circumstances, she'd be analyzing the irony of Kara Thrace being the one person to understand, even share, this feeling she can't put into words to Bill or anyone else for that matter. But, when Kara lets our a throaty laugh and slams down the bottle of absinthe, shouting, "This is so frakked up!" Laura can't help but giggle.

"It is," Laura agrees, grabbing the bottle and taking a long drink. She's not sure whether Kara's talking about them, New Caprica, or life in general, but, in any case, she's inclined to agree.

_II. Kara_

Most days she can play the wife, the former pilot who has settled down. The days she can't, she finds Laura. The truth is she didn't expect to be here. She didn't expect to live long enough to settle down and it makes her uncomfortable. She's a pilot but she's not one anymore; she doesn't know how to be anything else. Nothing ever feels quite right. She can feel the same restless energy radiating off Laura that thrums in every inch of her own body.

Right now, Laura is bent over a makeshift desk in her tent. She's bundled in a sweater and heavy jacket. A tiny gas lamp placed on the desk gives her just enough light to work by and Kara can see her breath as she frowns at something on the paper in front of her and makes a hasty scribble. It's damn cold here at night and Kara thinks that, if the woman she's looking at now were still president, they'd be well on their way to having actual buildings right now. Scratch that, they probably wouldn't even be on this frakking planet in the first place.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Laura finishes marking her papers and notices Kara's presence at the entrance to her tent. "Hello, Kara."

"Hey. I was just walking and saw your lamp on." At some point she gave up on coming up with excuses for these visits. If Laura thinks the “I saw your lamp on” excuse is as lame as Kara knows it is, she doesn't show it outwardly.

"Come on in." Laura waves at the empty chair in the opposite corner of her tent. "I could use the break. I've been grading these essays for hours. I swear, sometimes my students make me long for the comparative clarity of Quorum reports."

With a laugh, Kara enters the tent. "You know, if you really want a break, there's something I've been wanting to show you."

Laura arches an eyebrow at her.

"Mind out of the gutter, Roslin. That's not what I'm talking about."

Laura's scarf is draped over the chair next to the entrance to her tent and Kara grabs it and tosses at Laura.

Laura eyes the scarf and then Kara warily. "We're not going outside. It's late. It will be freezing."

"Suck it up and grab some mittens, Laura. We're going." When Laura still refuses to get up from her seat at the desk, Kara decides a different approach is called for. "Trust me. You'll like it," she promises.

Laura follows with little question after that. Kara knew the prospect of something new would be enough to get her moving. Walking through the pathways between tents, they hardly see anyone. Laura was right, it's cold and the people who are out are bundled up, heads down, rushing to wherever they're going.

The Carina is one of many ships that have been grounded since settlement on New Caprica. Kara guides Laura inside. The corridors are dark and quiet. Just as she did when she was here earlier in the week, Kara feels at home with the metal under her feet and four walls surrounding her again. She breathes deeply; she never thought she'd miss the distinctive tang of recycled ship air, but she does.

Now that they're alone, she grabs Laura's hand and leads her through the corridors to a supply room in the aft section. She switches on the light that is thankfully still working, though it flickers as she leads Laura to the boxes in the corner. Laura gasps in delight as Kara opens the lid of one box to reveal it's filled with books.

"Oh, The Moon and I. My mother used to read this to me and I read it to my younger sisters." Her fingers idly trace the title as she speaks. "Have you ever..." She looks at Kara and motions to the book in her own hands.

Kara snorts in response. "No. My mom wasn't the bedtime story type."

Laura always seems to sense when Kara doesn't want to talk about something and luckily, she knows to change the subject now.

"How did you…?" She gestures at the boxes.

"Some of us have been doing inventory on the grounded ships, looking for things we might be able to use. I though you could take these for your classroom."

"That's a good idea. I'm surprised Baltar thought of it."

"He didn't. This is strictly an unofficial operation. The black market is up and running again and there have been rumors that they're raiding all the grounded ships for supplies. A couple of us though we should beat them to it."

"I should have known," Laura says as she opens another box to examine the titles contained there.

"Should have known what?"

She looks up at Kara as she answers. "That Baltar wouldn't have any good ideas and you would. So, Kara, would you be so kind as to help me carry some of these books back to my classroom?"

"Gladly, ma'am," Kara replies, giving an exaggerated salute and earning a smack on the arm from the former president. "But, we should probably wait an hour or so. Gods know Baltar's security forces aren't too brilliant, but they do occasionally make a sweep of the area just outside the ships around nightfall, and I'd hate to be the reason the former president got picked up for burglary."

"Gods forbid," Laura exclaims, placing one hand on her chest in mock horror. "So, you said an hour?" Laura's abandoned the books and is now looking at Kara like she's considering something. "Does that door lock?" she asks, nodding at the entrance to the supply closet.

Kara isn't even through locking the hatch before Laura is behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist. Laura's mouth is just inches away from Kara's ear when she whispers. "Tell me what it feels like to fly."

"Huh?"

"What do you feel when you're flying?" Laura asks as she divests Kara of her shirt and then her bra, all the while leaning in to plant soft kisses along Kara's neck.

They've got an hour to kill and Kara decides she's willing to play along, especially if it will keep Laura doing what she's doing. "When you take off, it's like a shot of adrenaline," she says.

Laura puts her hands on Kara's shoulders and then spins her around so Kara's back is against the bulkhead. Then she leans down and runs her tongue along one pink nipple, while her hands work on unbuttoning Kara's pants. Kara feels her breathing quicken as she responds to Laura's touch.

"You feel alive, connected, aware of every little bump and shudder, the thrum of the engines, the space debris against your hull."

Laura slides Kara's pants off and begins kissing a trail down her stomach. Laura's fingernails are now digging into her ass. Some niggling voice in the back of her brain reminds her that she's married now and she should be concerned about how she'll explain the marks Laura is leaving on her to her husband, but instead she focuses on the way Laura's lips feel against her skin, the way it feels like time has finally sped up when her life has been moving in slow motion for months.

"Keep going," Laura whispers as she trails kisses down one leg and up the other.

"You feel almost empty," she says.

Laura's slides one hand beneath the band of Kara’s underwear and gently brushes her fingers against Kara’s clit. Kara moans at the contact.

Laura roughly pulls Kara’s underwear down her legs and Kara somehow finds the presence of mind to step out of them even as Laura's tongue trails the inside of her thigh.

"But a good empty, like this one second in time is all that's ever existed and all that ever will exist."

"Mmhmmm." Kara feels, rather than hears, Laura's response against the skin of her thigh.

"It's serene. Even when you're blasting the frak out of the enemy, you're calm."

Kara thinks sometimes that it isn't cheating because neither one of them is fully here. They're ghosts; they're echoes, two women past their expiration dates and living on borrowed time. Maybe this planet isn't even real. Maybe, she thinks, they're already dead.

And then she feels Laura's tongue on her clit, warming her skin until the sensation spreads like fire through her whole body. She feels Laura's fingers insider her. She lets out a moan as she feels her climax approach. She is alive, she remembers. This is real.


End file.
